Conversations; Our U.S.A( United State Of Africa)
The questions seemed irrelevant, notably saddening,
It came insecure and foretold discrimination.
The smile on her lips dried up,
As the caller asked, speaking up.
Are you a Caucasian or an African aborigine?
Nay! My colour is black and I despise none.
He asked again,
Are the factory Hands still working in your black region?
No! For we are not the Caucasians that characterised the Victorian era.
He still asked,
Is inflation still a problem in your Negro country?
No! We have passed that stage too.
A pauper or an affluent belle?
To which category do you belong?
I have no need to stoop to conquer,
For I am already made
And I am a comfortable belle.
Oh! How miserable are you?
And do we plan to meet sometime soon?
I stand not to be shaken by your skin colour
And proclaimed buoyancy ,
For I am an African
And similar our blood appears.
I tell you again,
Africans do not promise, we only take actions
And we do not bother about your above irrelevant questions ,
For I tell you, Caucasian,
That when Africans feel caged,
We talk about the chains
And watch our mind break into bliss and freedom.
I tell you Caucasian,
That with the passage of time, our U.S.A shall arrive like a sudden soon.